


I Need A Light To Take Me Home

by lovelyair



Category: Stitchers (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 08:42:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5578915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyair/pseuds/lovelyair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Songfic-Nightingale by Demi Lovato</p><p>Post 1x10</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Need A Light To Take Me Home

_I can’t sleep tonight_  
_Wide awake and so confused_  
_Everything’s in line_  
_But I am bruised_  
_I need a voice to echo_  
_I need a light to take me home_  
_I kinda need a hero_  
_Is it you?_

Her eyes never really seemed to work this late at night. No matter how much she willed them, the blurriness and haze would always sweep over them. She hated it, with each fiber of her fragile being. That would mean she would need to leave. She would have to unhook their hands, get up, and leave him. The thought of parting was always the worst moment of her day.

She glanced up at the wall, the ticking clock breaking the hum of the quiet hospital room. Out of her weary eyes she could tell it was a little before three a.m. Not that it mattered. Not that any of the time mattered. It was just another day that had passed, had come and gone, and he still hadn’t woken up.

She heard the soft click of the door open and watched as the night nurse entered. Approaching his bed and flipping open his chart. She scanned it once over, in a way that made Kirsten think that she had seen this many times before. The nurse shut the chart and replaced it back in the slot before glancing at her, looking at the black screen of the television, and once again looking back at the girl.  
They had run through this same routine each and every night for the past nine days. The nurses and doctors repeatedly requesting that she turn on the television or pick up a book or even go home until he woke up. They assured her that once he did, she would be their first phone call.

Her legs were growing numb as she watched the nurse check his eyes once more. Lifting each eyelid and flicking the flashlight through it. She sighed, just like she did every night, as the results didn't seem to be leaning in anyone’s favor. Certainly not his. She gripped his hand tighter as the nurse brought down her stethoscope to listen to his heart. The constant beeping of the heart monitors was never enough for them. It was never enough for her, that was for sure.

She could still see his green eyes as they begged her to go through with the Stitch. As the Potassium Methochloride raced through his veins. She could still feel his weight as it collapsed on to her. She could still feel every millisecond of the four minutes that ticked by as soon as his heart stopped.

The nurse left, shutting off the overhead light and bringing them into the glow from the lamp next to her chair. Every day for nine days, she sat here. Fingers linked, in the silence and peace of her own thoughts, twisting the crystal over between her smooth figures. She would glance over at him every once in a while, wishing she would see something, a twitch, a smile. _Anything_.

 _I never see the forest for the trees_  
_I could really use your melody_  
_Baby I’m a little blind_  
_I think it’s time for you to find me_

 _Can you be my nightingale?_  
_Sing to me_  
_I know you’re there_  
_You could be my sanity_  
_But bring me peace_  
_Sing me to sleep_  
_Say you’ll be my nightingale_

She found herself wishing he would wake up every minute she could. And trust her, she had been counting all of the minutes. All 12,960 of them.  
The lab, the room, her life; they were all so empty without him. It was something she had never noticed until around day four. Day four is when all of the residual emotion faded away. Day four is when she felt it leave her body, like a wind rushing around her. Her chest felt the pressure of her own feelings as they collided with his. She had only recently realized what those feelings were and they were crushing her. They were a heavier weight than anything she had ever endured. Without him, she wondered how much longer she could go on.

How many people had been in her position? It was something she often found herself thinking by day six. How many husbands, wives, lovers, had sat in her position? Waiting for that one person to open their eyes. For that single, steady heartbeat on the monitors to start quickening. The only problem was, they didn’t apply to any of those things. He wasn’t a husband, she wasn’t a wife, and they weren’t lovers.

By day six though, she considered the possibilities. The unthinkable notion that someone, anyone, could be in love with her. 

Her thumb was becoming numb from the crystals sharp edges rubbing between it and her forefinger. She, on more than one occasion during day seven had placed the rock between his palm and fingers. Hoping for some magical power that would suddenly awaken him. That he would just pop up and give her that smile and be okay again. Hoping, she had come to realize, was not bringing her peace. The hope that was burning in her heart felt like it was being smothered with each passing hour that ticked by. She sighed, glancing over at him once more. The steady rise and fall of his chest being the only thing that held her sanity together. As long as his heart was beating, she wouldn’t give up.  
She couldn’t. Because if she gave up, maybe he would too.

 _Somebody speak to me_  
_Cause I’m feeling like hell_  
_Need you to answer me_  
_I’m overwhelmed_  
_I need a voice to echo_  
_I need a light to take me home_  
_I need a star to follow_  
_I don’t know_

Day four had brought it’s challenges. Their friends had stopped by, concerned that she hadn’t been around for the past few days. Why couldn’t they just understand? Why couldn’t they seem to grasp what he had done for her? Why did she seem like the only one who was fully capable of realizing the sacrifice that he had made for her? Even emotionally compromised Camille, who never let go of Linus’ hand the whole time they were there was begging her to go home. At least to recharge for a few hours.  
_What if it had been Linus?_ That was her only question to her friend. _What if it were Linus who had given his life for her, laying in that bed? Would she be so eager to seek relief?_  
She didn’t do upset, but in that moment, she felt an anger surge through her that felt more like betrayal. They just weren’t understanding her. They weren’t understanding that she needed to be here, needed to be by his side.

Now, on day nine, she wished they were here. She wished someone would say something to her. She wished her mother or Ed were still here. Maybe they would have some comforting words for her. Perhaps they would know what to do.  
She felt her fingers tighten around the crystal and felt warm tears gather at the corner of her eyes.  
“Please, wake up.” She whispered to silent air.

Now that she knew how he felt about her, the picture of them was so suddenly clear. She chalked it up to her condition, but now that she contained the knowledge of his feelings, now that she knew he would willingly give his life for her; the feeling of his love refused to leave her. How often his heart ached for her, each smiled, each argument, everything. She had never loved someone like that before. She had never loved someone with as much intensity as he had felt for her. It was overwhelming and when the residual emotion left her she felt the wave of her own feelings crash in to her, she felt like the ocean had swept over her. The feeling of wave after wave hitting her. Pulling her out to sea, letting her abandon the shore of safety that she had always held on to. The shore that always kept her at a distance from feeling all of the things that she was afraid of.

All she wanted was to hear his voice. She found herself not being able to remember what it sounded like, and that was the worst feeling of all. The voice that was always around her, kept her grounded in a world that often left her confused, and guided her as she went through each stitch. Her ears burned with desire at wanting to hear him call her a nickname. It had been nine days without a nickname and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take it.

The crystal bit into her hand and she released her grip watching as the purple marks around her hand regained their pinkish hue. She could feel the static coursing through her legs and she knew she should get out of the chair. Knew her heavy eyes wanted some relief. But she couldn’t, she couldn’t move from her post. As much as she wanted to. _And it angered her_. It angered her to feel this powerless under all of her feelings. To feel this heavy in her heart. Hearts couldn’t feel heavy, they had to all weigh the same. They all served the same purpose, they couldn’t feel emotion. They couldn’t feel this heavy.  
If they couldn’t feel this heavy, why did she feel like hers was dragging her down to the center of the Earth?

 _I don’t know what I’d do without you_  
_Your words are like a whisper cutting through_  
_As long as you are with me here tonight_  
_I’m good_

Day seven is when she whispered it to him. When she placed the crystal on the top of his chest and whispered three simple words to him. Three words that she hadn’t ever uttered to another single living being before in that capacity. Three words that were only words. Only eight simple letters, but when strung together, meant so much.

His mother arrived on day eight. She glided in after a long flight from some foreign country that meant nothing to Kirsten. His mother hadn't arrived until day eight. Stopping her life because her son was in the hospital, but not until day eight.  
When she breezed in through the doorway, she halted and eyed Kirsten, whose tired eyes barely glanced up. The woman found a chair opposite Kirsten and plumped herself down in to it. Pulling out her phone and clicking away. She would sigh every few minutes and glance up at her son. Kirsten’s grip on his hand tightening as the minutes passed by.  
"Cameron’s never mentioned you.“ His mother said, popping her head up after some time.  
Kirsten’s blank faced met hers, "funny, he’s never mentioned you either.”  
With a quick nod of her head the woman stood up, grabbing her bag. “You know, my son has seen enough hospitals to last two lifetimes. After this, make sure he never sees one again.”  
Kirsten nodded, her stomach twisting as she watched the woman leave.

She had spent all of this time by his side and had forgotten how familiar with hospitals he must be. How as a young boy, his mother must have popped in and out of his life, swinging through whenever her plane landed. How could she just so carelessly live without him?   
Kirsten on the other hand, needed him. She had gone twenty four years not knowing what it was like to need a single individual in this way before. It was almost like cracking open a new book, waiting for the adventure inside. Not knowing whether you would love it or hate it, but wanting to read every word anyway. Wanting to know every letter and burying yourself so deep in it that before you knew it, it was over.  
Was their story already over? Before she even had the chance to experience it?

 _Can you be my nightingale?_  
_Feels so close_  
_I know you’re there_  
_Oh, nightingale_

The constant beep of the heart monitor skipped. One blip, which wouldn’t have seemed like a big deal if she hadn’t been sitting there for the past nine days. Her head perked up and she felt the crystal fall to her lap. Her breath catching in her throat as another skip. She felt their intertwined fingers grip tighter and heart began racing as she realized she wasn’t the one controlling it.  
Her eyes felt a different kind of wave sweep over them and she quickly rose from her chair. The beeping of his heart now increasing. Like he was trying to come back to her. Like he was finally ready to find her, wherever he had gone. She was there, she was ready.  
That’s when his chest rose higher, reaching for more air. She heard him take a gasp and her hand found its way to his heart. Placing her cold fingers over his warm chest. The feeling sweeping through her as if she contained enough heart for the both of them.

Every memory, every laugh, every moment that she had taken for granted suddenly rushed back to her as she saw a smile fall on his lips. It was small, but it was there. And she felt a tear rush down her quickly warming cheeks.

He opened his mouth to speak, his first words in nine days. She didn’t care what they were, she just needed to hear them. When he managed to speak, his voice was raspy and the words seemed to claw their way down his throat. His eyes were still closed as the quiet words broke through the silence of the room.

“Did the crystal work?”


End file.
